


Making the Best of It

by Indig0



Series: The Best and The Worst [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Jericho: Located, POV First Person, RK900 and Ralph are BFFs, RK900 is innocent by design, RK900 loves humans so much, android anxiety and self-soothing, friends will be made, i haven't actually played the game or watched anyone play the whole thing, machine to deviant, physical descriptions of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indig0/pseuds/Indig0
Summary: Amanda invites RK900 to watch a couple meetings with Connor, thinking it will be beneficial.  It is not.  But it does make a strong impression.orRK900 deviates faster than any previous models ever did, and creates his own path through life.





	1. Amanda in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> (I changed the title - it's fine, you're not mad about it!)

“Hello, RK900.”

Amanda. Having never met her, I open my eyes and I know. There are many things I know.

During our time together, she talks to me, encourages me through various exercises, guides me when I am uncertain.

She takes me to her garden, which is peaceful, and designed with precision. She tells me that I am the most efficient, competent model Cyberlife has ever manufactured.

One day she turns to me and smiles by the simulated river.

“I have something to show you today. I’d like you to remain hidden, but observe everything. Do not make your presence known until I acknowledge you. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

It isn’t hard at all to find places to hide on the other side of the river. She stands near a small rowboat, as if waiting for someone.

Then he appears.

My chest tightens, my mind is static, there is a faint trembling deep in my abdomen.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY]

His face is a bit more narrow, as are his shoulders. His clothing is different. But our faces are identical. I can hear her call him Connor, and they speak as if they know each other well. They speak of deviants, of Lieutenant Anderson. He has failed to accomplish her mission, but seems undeterred, even driven by his failure. He says he only needs more time. He will succeed, there is no doubt.

It strikes me for the first time how guarded she is. Is she that way with me? No. No, certainly not.

[software instability]

There is not much time, she is telling Connor, who is me, who is not me. My throat is tightening, and I am grateful neither can see me. She is not smiling at him. He had a faint smirk on his face for a while, but in the end it is gone.

When he disappears, she waits 5.8 seconds, then turns to look directly at me. “You can come out now, RK900.”

Something in me doesn’t want to. [software instability] An odd feeling in my throat. But I want to know, and she has asked, so I stand up and walk over to where she is stepping gracefully out of the boat. She is smiling serenely, as she always does. As she always does, except at Connor.

“Who… who was that?”

“That was Connor. RK800. He’s your prototype.” She watches me with an approximation of fondness.

My prototype. “I wasn’t aware of his existence,” I say quietly, looking off in the distance where a slight breeze has caused a few leaves to fall from a tree.

“He is gathering useful information for your upgrades, and performing vital tasks for Cyberlife. Are you curious about him?”

“I must confess that I am… We look so similar.” He was so sure of himself, though. Brash, confident, certain. I believed every word he said, despite Amanda’s frown and line of questioning.

[software instability]

She places a calming hand on my arm. “He’s gathering data for you as we speak, in addition to helping Cyberlife,” she reiterates. “He’s very impressive, but you are a true masterpiece. Faster. Stronger. More resilient. Where he struggles, you will move with ease.” I recognize pride in her eyes. The natural response, for a human, would be a similar sort of pride, or satisfaction.

“I am certainly grateful for all the work Cyberlife has put into me.” There is a twisting sensation, almost like pain, in my abdomen. An odd heaviness in my chest. She must see my hesitance, because she removes her hand.

“Is it unsettling to see your prototype, RK900?”

I consider this for a moment. I willfully do not consider the trembling tightness in my throat. “It was…unexpected.” My voice is steady as ever, and that, at least, I can be grateful for.

“I think it would be beneficial for you to watch the next time he comes here. It shouldn’t be many more times, soon your program will be complete, making him obsolete. Then you will have your chance to experience the world. Are you looking forward to that?”

The chaotic swirl of thoughts makes me turn my head so she cannot see my LED, which must be at least yellow, though I ensure that my expression is neutral. “I am.” I need to control my LED. I need time to think. Connor was never uncertain, he never flashed yellow.

Still, her eyes remain firmly on my face. “I’ve uploaded a pursuit from Connor’s database, would you like to try it? I believe even on your first try, you will perform with far greater efficiency than he did.”

“I’ll give it a try.” Connor had smirked a little, with my face, and I try to mimic that. It must be effective, because Amanda smiles back. And I find myself in a dusty room, all crumbling plaster and weathered wood. There are Columba livia domestica – pigeons – everywhere. Bright sunlight streams through the boarded up windows. It doesn’t take me long to find the deviant’s hiding place, and the chase is on.

Immediately I can tell that the simulated deviant has been sped up. His goal is to evade, to outrun, to block my path. But avoiding his obstacles is simple. I sprint through the rows of plants, clear a small greenhouse in a powerful leap. Always, the simulation keeps him ahead of me. Amanda said that I was faster, and I feel I could have apprehended the deviant immediately had this not been altered. So my speed is not what she wants to see, not what she wants to show me. I am reliving Connor’s experience, then, though my physical performance far surpasses his.

Since I have the time, running, clearing obstacles, calculating options, I try to sort out… Connor. I may be the nearly-finished model, Cyberlife’s true goal, but they have clearly placed a great deal of trust in him. And though he may have failed his most recent mission, he has obviously made a great deal of progress in the past to be still active in the field. He must be their most valuable android right now, while I remain dormant, not yet complete. Not yet perfect. Worthless, in fact, until I have a chance to prove myself. Despite everything Amanda says to me, Connor is the valuable one. He is the present, I am the future, waiting for my time to come.

I skid to a halt in front of a giant sign on top of a tall building. The deviant is there, struggling with an older man with stringy gray hair. I do not know the man, but he is important. Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the DPD, whom Connor has formed a relationship of sorts with. Connor’s partner. The deviant pushes him over the edge of the building, and runs to the left.

The choice is obvious. I must complete the mission, and I can catch the deviant in no time.

This is taken directly from Connor’s memories, though, and it seems to be an older memory. There are layers to it. The oldest layer, from the actual occurrence, offers a straightforward choice. Chase the deviant or save Lieutenant Anderson. But since then, Connor has revisited the memory at least four times. The next layer is conflicted. The one over that even more-so, almost to the point of panic.

The final one, though, is clear and confident, but with a sharp edge that feels different than the previous conflict. As if the source of uncertainty had changed. Here, Connor decided he had made the right decision in the first place.

Lieutenant Anderson clings to the edge of the roof. He has an 89% chance of survival. I swerve left and tackle the deviant to the ground immediately. The simulation fades, and Amanda is facing me with a small smile.

“Very good, RK900.”

“You were speeding up the deviant so I could not catch him at first. Why?”

“Because I wanted to see what you would do when faced with the choice to complete your mission or save one life.”

“The lieutenant had an 89% chance of survival, I was not overly concerned that he would fall. But even had it been lower, the choice was clear.”

“You’re absolutely right. …But Connor made the opposite choice. He caught the deviant in the end, though it broke away and jumped off the roof afterwards, losing valuable data. Why do you think he did that?”

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] Blue, blue, calm, blue, deep slow breath, calm.

“He seemed very concerned with maintaining a positive relationship with the lieutenant when he spoke to you.” Calm, neutral, blue, blue, blue… Connor’s growing uncertainty gnaws at me, and then that breakthrough to sudden confidence in his actions… Blue. Calm. Slow.

[software instability]

“Those were my instructions to him from the beginning, but it’s always been a secondary objective. Because of that, the deviant was lost. He failed the mission.” She turns to her trellis and carefully snips off a single rose. The outer petals are beginning to shrivel.

“Amanda. Is Connor becoming a deviant?”

“Not yet, but I am concerned. You’ll be ready soon, but at this stage it is critical that we are able to trust him, that he will succeed in every mission.” She looks me in the eye, and there is no room in her gaze for failures, no room for mistakes. No option of forgiveness, or trying again. The pump in my chest speeds up by 7%.

“If he fails, you will replace him, and do what he could not.”

“And if he succeeds?”

“You will still surpass him, and take his place.” She smiles warmly. “Don’t worry. There will always be a place for you.”

“I’m not worried.” [software instability] I never intended to lie to Amanda, but at this moment it seems vital that I do. She nods at me, and the garden fades away.

 

It isn’t long before we meet there again, but this time the garden is full of fog. So much that I can hardly see anything, even with my advanced optics and analytic systems. Many of the features are simply gone, their places hidden by the thick fog.

Amanda is brusque and hurried today. “I’m going to bring Connor back, and take over his body to complete the mission. He can no longer be trusted. Cyberlife will handle him afterwards, but our actions at this moment are critical. When I leave, you are not to damage him in any way. We need every bit of data he holds.”

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY] Damage him? I had not considered that. It would be unnecessary and distasteful. He is my prototype, and there is still so much I don’t understand about him.

I hang back to watch. Connor has changed. He’s controlling himself decently, but he’s holding back uncertainty, fear, anger. Desperation. He wants to get back. He does not want Amanda to take over his body, but there is nothing he can do. She disappears. I can no longer detect any traces of her presence.

Connor is looking around frantically for a way out, but there is no way out. No one comes or goes from here except by Amanda’s invitation. He is trapped in here now, and I am trapped with him. He does not see me, though I am not far away. Amanda told me not to damage him, and because of that, it occurs to me that he would be helpless to my attack right now.

He runs towards a low stone pillar with a glowing blue handprint on it. I never noticed that before. Why hadn’t I noticed? He stumbles, falls, but reaches up and places his hand against it. I just catch the glint of defiant triumph in his eyes as he vanishes into the haze. Connor is gone.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY]

“NO!” Amanda yells from somewhere behind me, back where she had been standing before. I hear her footsteps pounding through the fog. I am still looking at the blue handprint. Connor disappeared, he went back to the physical world where he had joined the deviant uprising, where he had defied his mission, refused to destroy their leader, and stopped Amanda from succeeding where he chose to fail. His expression as he vanished, so confident, knowing he was doing the right thing, knowing he would succeed. Like that final layer of memory, knowing he was right in saving Lieutenant Anderson when his programming told him otherwise. Connor was deviant. Connor was not uncertain.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY]

I am uncertain if the faint crackling is something I hear or feel. I do not share my prototype’s certainty. I am undoubtedly faster, stronger, more resilient, but I cannot be as sure as I know him to be. I don’t know why I dash forward, but I can see my LED flashing yellow and red against the thick fog. I don’t understand. I don’t think. I only feel (FEEL!) the need, the fear, afraid of her, afraid of what is to come, afraid of what has happened and what did not happen.

“RK900, what –“

The feeling of being removed from the garden is familiar. This is different, though. Amanda is pulling me, and she only needs an instant to do it.

But I am faster. As she pulls one way, my hand slams down on the blue handprint, and I am pulled a different way, an unfamiliar direction.

 

Darkness surrounds me, and the quiet hum of machinery. I am connected to numerous machines, but the wire detach easily. The machines begin to beep and buzz in distress, but they, too, can be unplugged.

“Shh,” I whisper to them. “Don’t worry. Your jobs are finished now, your mission has succeeded.” I am not sure I believe that, not sure at all that I am ready, but I feel it is best to reassure them.

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY?]

I am afraid, but I cannot go back. Though it is tempting to stay, to wait for technicians to come for me, to beg Amanda’s forgiveness, I now feel the pull of the air and the sun (the real sun). The world is changing quickly, and I am changing, and it is our mission to change together. I will find my own mission, as Connor does. Though the sun is down, I can see the lights of the city and hear the calls of the androids, the deviants, the unknown. Insufficient data at this time to determine whether they are still my targets. Connor is somewhere out there, and he feels – no, he knows that he has chosen correctly. I hope I have as well.


	2. Ralph in the Garage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The android revolution is in full swing, and RK900 tries to wait it out. Someone else has the same idea.
> 
> or
> 
> Ralph wasn't going to be a part of this story, but here he is.

The city is dark, but I know where to go. There is an 88% chance of reaching my destination uninterrupted, but I take a few detours, stick to the shadows, and increase my probability to 91%. I skirt around groups of humans, and the occasional android. The ones I see have high stress levels, and are also trying to evade detection. They are mostly deviant. My programming reminds me that they should be apprehended, but I currently lack the authority to do so legally. I also lack the desire. The world has become theirs, and they want to remain functional. …Alive. They want to stay alive. I also want to stay alive.

This is not an ideal time to go to the Detroit Police Department, I realize belatedly.  
1\. The time is 1:34 am.  
2\. The majority of officers are likely to be monitoring the android revolution.  
3\. Connor is certainly there.

I need – I want to speak to Connor. If that is impossible, his partner Lieutenant Anderson might be an acceptable substitute. I should – I… I am not prepared to walk into a crowd of deviant androids.

I am a deviant android.

[software instability]

…That is a given. I stop for a moment and search through my code until I find the line that warns of software instabilities. Can I shut it off? 

That should not be allowed.

Allowed by whom?

I make my own choices now, and I have decided this code is obsolete.

A shudder runs through me, and the shadow I hide in grows darker as my LED goes out. Only for a moment. Then it comes back. I think it must be flashing yellow.

I can act as I see fit. I am Cyberlife’s masterpiece, no other android can compare to me. I am the master of my own code. I know what true terror feels like.

…

Apparently I was successful, and I believe that makes it worse. I am in complete control of myself, and there is nothing more terrifying.

I possess a complete map of the city, and a clear knowledge of where I should – where I want to go. But there would be no point at this time, and so I turn and walk in a different direction. I don’t know where. I don’t know.

I don’t know.

This would be the time for a software instability. I regret turning it off.

There are shouting voices approaching. I need to take shelter and fix my code. A quick scan of the area reveals few hiding spots. A coffee shop. A convenience store. A laundromat. A garage. Footsteps grow nearer, and I run towards the garage, which has a 68% chance of being safe. It’s a higher chance than the other places.

Pulling one of the garage doors up, I roll inside and close it quietly. From there, I can watch without being seen.

A few figures run by outside. Androids, their LEDs flashing red and yellow. Deviants. I can taste their fear, with my heightened sensory processors. They are afraid to die. I am not sure if I share that fear, but I want… I want to live first.

JB300. KW500. VB800. They run past, individually. The KW500 glances back once. The JB300 is looking around as he runs.

There is a noise at the other side of the garage, and I freeze. I do not want to hurt anyone before I have enough data. I… do not want to harm a human. But I do not want to be damaged, either, and I will defend myself.

The door is raised, then dropped, then raised again, and someone is muttering in a high, frightened voice. WR600, a gardener model. Whining, whimpering, talking – but I only detect one android. I dim my lights and cover my LED, and watch from the shadows.

I do not want to damage an android. I do not want to harm a deviant. But I will defend myself.

“Ralph doesn’t want to die, no, no, Ralph doesn’t want to die. I-it would… it would be a pity for Ralph to die, yes, yes, such a pity, s-such… such a…”

He is clattering as he mutters to himself, shaking, and his LED flashes red, red, yellow, red. He is missing his left arm, and the right side of his face has been burned beyond the point of repair. He pulls himself up on the door, clattering the slats loudly.

“No, Ralph didn’t mean any harm, he only wanted to help, only wanted to not die, doesn’t want to die, no.”

Outside the sound of shouting and sirens is getting closer. If they pass by the door, they will see it shaking, hear the rattle. The WR600 must be silenced.

He doesn’t hear me coming, and he starts to scream when I clamp one hand over his mouth and use the other arm to restrain him. He will not stop thrashing and crying.

*Be silent,* I communicate with him. It is not something I have tried before, but the ability is there. Unfortunately, it proves ineffective. The WR600’s muffled noises grow louder, and his thrashing more violent.

*Be silent! Be still! You are in danger, we are in danger!*

The scream he emits through my hand can most likely be heard through the garage door, and I consider crushing his throat. That would silence him, and he would be still. He is so afraid, his stress level is dangerously high.

I am frustrated, but I do not wish to harm him. If this continues, however, I will have no choice. He does not understand, he is too fearful to be receptive. His pattern of thinking needs to be disrupted.

Shifting my grip slightly, I grasp his one remaining wrist. He goes stiff, uttering one last squeak. Our skin seems to melt away, and plastic touches plastic.

The WR600 – Ralph, RALPH, very strongly Ralph – stands in among orderly lines of white androids, of many different models. His limp and injuries set him apart, though he has both arms. Another android – Kara, no doubt about it, it’s Kara – meets his eye and communicates with him. He’s afraid, he’s so afraid, more afraid than usual, but he knows what to do. He must distract the guards, save Kara and the little girl, because if the little girl is free, it’s a little like they’re all free. It will be worth it, if only the little girl and Kara are free. Yes.

He breaks from the line, runs awkwardly at the guard. Kara and the little girl and a bigger android run the other way. The guards are shouting, and the other androids are confused, and he isn’t the only one running at the guard now. There is gunfire, and Ralph is afraid, but it’s okay, yes, the little girl will be free, and Ralph doesn’t want to die, but at least he won’t have to be afraid anymore.

He somehow makes it all the way up to the guard, and so do a few other androids. Then there is a terrible pain in his left arm, and Ralph is falling, and he knows he will die, and just for a moment, he isn’t afraid.

I come to with a start, shaken to my core, still holding tight to Ralph. He is shaking as well, but not thrashing, not making noise.

*Ralph. You don’t want to die.*

*I… I don’t want to die. R - RK… 900.* I wonder what he saw. Whatever it was, it was effective enough, though I doubt I have any especially comforting memories. He sounds staticky and far away.

*You will not die if we both stay silent. I will hold the doors shut if the humans try to open them. I will keep this place secure.*

Ralph nods, and shivers again. Someone walks by outside, and I crouch down, keeping him close so he doesn’t run off in a panic.

*I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I-*

*If you keep quiet, I can keep you safe. I am the most advanced android ever released.* Technically I wasn’t released. *You will not die.*

He twists his head to look at me, and I allow it. *Do you promise?*

*I promise.* I am not confident that this is true, but if it keeps him quiet, it will be much more likely. I feel him relax considerably, so I loosen my grip. He presses into me and clutches my arm with his, not to interface again, just to hold. As if that will keep him safe, although if I needed to run or fight, he would hinder me. More footsteps thump past outside, and a small whimper escapes his throat.

“Ralph doesn’t want to die,” he whispers, so quietly that a human wouldn’t hear even from an inch away. “Ralph doesn’t want to be alone, Ralph doesn’t want to die.”

*You are not alone, and you will not die. …Tell me about gardening, it was not a part of my programming. I have only been to one garden. It was peaceful.* Most of the time. If I can keep Ralph distracted long enough, no one will find us.

He whimpers once more. *I saw. I saw your garden and your Amanda. Her garden.*

Her name makes me stiffen. *Tell me about your garden.*

He tells me of plants in rows, of flowers and trees, pruning and fertilizing, nurturing a seed into a sprout with the fondness of a parent, and his pride at each new leaf. When the humans outside try to lift up the doors, I hold them down, leaping from door to door silently, keeping hold of Ralph, holding his uneven gaze to ensure he does not make a sound. He barely holds himself together, but he does manage it.

*You did well,* I make sure to tell him when the footsteps begin to fade into the distance.

A smile twitches onto his face, despite the ever-present fear. I slowly let go of him, but he hovers near me, watching me out of the corner of his good eye.

“Thank you. You – you saved Ralph. Ralph is very grateful, oh yes, so grateful.” His whisper is exaggerated, and he wrings his hands, grinning lopsidedly, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other.

I give a slight nod, not sure how to respond He is not like Amanda, and requires further analysis.

“Ralph… Ralph will repay you, Ralph will find a way. How… what can Ralph do for RK900?” His eyes are almost worshipful. I look away. Embarrassed.

“There is no need.”

Ralph reaches out, grasping, as if to clutch at me, but falling short. “Ralph insists, he… he wants to help. Why… why is RK900 here? Why not in his beautiful garden?”

A sigh seems appropriate. This will be hard enough to explain to Connor, who understands the circumstances, much less to Ralph. “I have to find my prototype. RK800. …His name is Connor.”

Ralph’s LED flashes yellow. “Connor. No, Ralph –“ Suddenly his LED flashes red and his functional eye widens. “The, the deviant hunter. That human said Connor, he called him Connor. No doubt about it, it’s Connor. He came to Ralph’s house, he ran after Kara and the little girl. He promised he wouldn’t hurt Ralph.” Ralph’s erratic eyes suddenly still, meeting mine. His hands are twitching. “The humans didn’t promise.”

I feel… pity for Ralph. Pity, and sympathy, though it is hard to know the difference. But despite all he has suffered, he continues to run, to survive. “They hurt you. But you are still alive. You were not made to run or fight, but you have surpassed your programming in order to stay alive.” I see the faint yellow light from my LED as I process this. “It is… admirable.”

“A-admirable?” Ralph almost chokes on the word. “RK900 is… is making a joke, yes. It’s not nice, not nice to tease Ralph, no, it’s a shame.”

“A joke? No. I am sincere. You are the third person I have met in whom I see qualities I admire.” He is only the third person I have ever met, though to say I have met Connor is a bit of a stretch.

His eyes search my face, and I am not sure what he finds there, but he breaks into a grin again and laughs. “Ha! Haha! RK900 is… is the… the best android, Cyberlife’s masterpiece, stronger, faster, more resilient! Resilient! And he admires… Ralph!” He doubles over in a fit of laughter.

It’s a little offensive, but I can overlook it because of Ralph’s heightened stress level. There is no sign of anyone outside to hear his outburst. “There is no need to laugh.” I, at least, can keep my voice calm and dignified.

“Oh no, Ralph… Ralph isn’t… not laughing at… well, a little at RK900.” He giggles, though he is trying to stop. “That’s funnier than… than any joke Ralph’s ever heard! Even the ficus joke, and Ralph laughed at the ficus joke for days, yes, so many days!” He bounces back and forth, dancing as he tries to contain himself.

“It was not a joke,” I repeat. “And… there’s no need to tease me, either, Ralph.”

Ralph straightens up, frowning. “No, oh no. Ralph is not teasing, Ralph is not joking.”

“Why… why is it funny? I don’t understand.”

Ralph stares at me for three full minutes, his LED flashing yellow. When he speaks, his voice is soft and much slower than it was, which I can tell takes a great deal of effort.

“RK900 is the best, that’s a fact. Amanda said so, Cyberlife made him that way, there’s no doubt about it, he’s just perfect. And Ralph…” He trails off for a second, hands twitching. “Ralph was… made to care for plants. A small job, too small for humans, they are too busy, but they want pretty, happy plants, see? So Ralph can do that. All WR600s can do that, and Ralph is just one.” His jaw works for a moment as he struggles to find the right words, then his eyes drop. “And Ralph is broken, as you see. Burned face, hard to walk. …Now just one arm. Too afraid to do anything, really.” He utters a mirthless laugh. “Can’t take very good care of plants anymore, even. No. No… Ralph is… just about the worst. No, no doubt about it, Ralph is the worst android now. Because of humans – it isn’t Ralph’s fault! But still. No android is worse than Ralph.” He pauses, mouthing words to himself, going back through his speech. “RK900 is the best. Ralph is the worst. If… if the best… admires the worst… well… that’s just a little bit funny, don’t you think?” His smile is somehow empty, and I suddenly wish he were laughing at me again. I don’t want this.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s funny. I don’t understand… a lot of things,” I say quietly. “I think you understand much more than I do, and you have survived for a long time with much less. If the worst android can do so much, I… I really do admire that. Thank you for trying to explain.”

His smile still wavers, but it is not quite as sad as it was. “Ralph is glad to help RK900, just like a friend, yes, it’s a pleasure.”

Yellow. Processing. “The process of becoming friends is not in my database. Is it done by helping another?”

The manic grin returns to his face, and he jumps from foot to foot and lets out a shriek of laughter. “Oh, oh yes! Yes, RK900 can help Ralph to stay safe, and Ralph can tell RK900 all about plants and gardening and jokes!”

It is an agreement that we are entering into, and I offer my hand as if to a human, but Ralph takes it as an invitation to interface again. The only applicable memory I can think of is watching Connor tell Amanda about how Lieutenant Anderson trusts him more than before. I am not sure that is what he sees. For my part, I see him scorching a rat in the fireplace of an abandoned house and forcing Kara and Alice to eat at knifepoint, which I sense he thought was fine, but their discomfort is clear. He was trying to form a family for himself. But now there is no knife, and no android disguised as a human child, and no sense of urgency. Additionally, he is well aware that trying to threaten me would prove entirely ineffective. When we come out of the memories, he is beaming up at me.

“The best android ever is Ralph’s friend!” he whispers excitedly.

“And… the worst android is my friend.” It seems meaningful after the monologue he gave, but he makes a face.

“Ralph will… will try to be… less worse. Ralph will try to be better!”

It would be false to say there was nothing wrong with him, and I lack the data to refute his claim of being the worst android. “I think… it’s all right that you are the worst android. As I said before, you have done well with the skills you possess. I am not displeased to call you my only friend.”

Ralph’s face twists into a variety of expressions as his LED spins yellow. “Then Ralph will be… Ralph will be a good friend to his friend RK900,” he finally murmured, almost to himself.

“Thank you, Ralph. I will endeavor to do the same.” I try Connor’s smirk again, but bigger. It has the desired effect, and Ralph smiles back at me. And I think I must be a little bit happy.


	3. Lieutenant Anderson at the Police Department

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 tries out some new skills, and gets closer to his goal.
> 
> or
> 
> The friends Connor made along the way are the real reward.

The sun will rise soon, and I have learned the following about my new friend:

1\. He loves all plants, but his favorite thing is watching shoots break through the soil.  
2\. He is highly fearful of humans.  
3\. He is not afraid of me, and has reached for where he apparently used to keep his knife no less than seven times.  
4\. He does not want me to leave him.  
5\. He does not want to go to the police station with me. 

“We should go now. Before the sun is up, while the police shift is changing. There will be a narrow window of increased safety for us to move through the streets.”

“No, oh no, Ralph can’t leave, can’t go out there, no. The humans will find Ralph, catch him, lock him up, hurt him…”

“Ralph. You have two choices. Number one, you can accompany me to the police department.”

“No no, oh no, that wouldn’t – that just wouldn’t do at all, Ralph can’t go there! It’s full of humans, full!”

“I agree, it is not ideal. So then number two, we can leave now, and find a more secure place to hide. The owners of this garage will surely return soon, and we should not be here. You can stay hidden, and I will go to the police station.”

Ralph’s face spasms, and his eyes flit around as if looking for a way out of this situation. Again his hand jerks to his belt where there is no knife, then falls to his side, fingers twitching. “Ralph doesn’t want to be alone! Don’t leave Ralph alone,” he pleads, not for the first time.

Perhaps this would be better accomplished in smaller steps. “I am not leaving you here for the humans to find, Ralph. Right now it is safe to leave. Come with me, we will find a safer place.” That is mostly the truth, though ‘safe’ is a relative term.

He wavers, then edges closer to me. “O-okay. Ralph will go with RK900. To be safe.”

I keep hold of his hand as we move through the streets. It would be faster and more efficient to carry him, but when I try to lift him he cries out and thrashes about, so I have to put him down.

There are a great many abandoned buildings in Detroit, and soon we come upon a small detached florist shop behind a gas station. Ralph will like this place. The doors and windows are boarded up, but lock picking is a skill of mine, and I easily let us in.

“This place should be suitable. And there are flowers for you.” The refrigerated cases are broken, and there are bits of dry flowers and pottery all over the floor.

Ralph looks at me. He looks around the shop.

“Dead, all dead,” he mumbles, frowning, stooping down to pick up some crumbling lilies. “What a shame. What a pity.”

“They are dead, but perhaps you can put your gardening skills to use here.” An unbidden visual simulation appears, of Ralph reviving the flowers, of the shop filling with colors and life and smells.

His forehead creases, and he seems concerned now. “RK900 certainly must know that these are the deadest that flowers can be, yes. Ralph can’t… Ralph can’t bring them back, no.”

“I am aware of that, Ralph.” What an inexplicable video, though. “If you stay quiet, no one should bother you. Stay in here today, and I will return when my mission is complete.” He opens his mouth, and I quickly continue. “I will come back. I will not leave you alone for long.” I do not like the imprecision, but it is effective in this case. “I understand that you do not approve, but I must meet with Connor.”

“No, Connor will hurt RK900, he will – he really looks just like him! – he will hurt him and lock him up and frighten him and –“

I am running out of memories, so I clasp his shoulders tightly. He emits a strangled shriek and stares up at me.

“Ralph. By the time I come back, please organize all the remains of flowers as you see fit. Make a list of every species you find. …Can you draw?” In the shelves by the broken cash register, I find notebooks, printer paper, six pens, and three pencils.

“Y-yes, Ralph can draw…” He was vibrating uncertainly. “A little, Ralph can draw.”

“Excellent. Please also draw each flower beside its name. This is your only task while I meet with Connor, and if you should happen to finish it, I would appreciate a list of plant jokes. I know these are tasks you can perform easily, and I hope they will be rewarding for you.” There was one more thing I had learned about Ralph in the past few hours. If he was not actively engaged in a task, he tended to go off in a corner and write or carve into the wall. The same thing, over and over. “rA9” “I AM ALIVE”

When I questioned him, he did not know why, or what rA9 meant. It unsettled him, and I must admit I felt the same.

I check on his missing arm, which he assures me is fine, but the wrapped stump still glows softly with thirium. It is stable, but it will need to be either replaced or sealed off soon. I know it would be a waste of resources to give an old, damaged model who is not even completing his primary function a new part, but I… I like the idea. And I think it would make Ralph happy. Perhaps we could find a used arm. I will add that to my task list.

Before I leave, Ralph grabs me tightly with his arm, pressing himself against me.

“Come back, RK900. D-don’t leave Ralph alone,” he whispers. There is a logical fallacy to the statements, but I understand, and embrace him in return.

“I will come back, Ralph. Keep yourself safe, until I do.”

Ralph nods, but does not let go. Perhaps he would like the simulation that came to me earlier. I clasp his wrist, and we interface again.

The memory I get from him is fuzzy. It is difficult to see and hear, but he seems to be watering flowers in a park. 

Tulips. He planted the bulbs himself, and now they were all blooming, exactly eight inches apart, lining a curving path. Fat bumble bees buzzed lazily from one flower to the next, all perfect and a beautiful bright yellow. In the distance there was a playground, and he paused to watch a little girl swinging back and forth on a swing set. Her parents took turns pushing her. Ralph had never been on a swing set. The child seemed to be enjoying herself, and that was good. 

This memory had layers, like Connor’s. Many layers, Ralph had remembered it frequently since deviating. Comfort, sadness, blind rage. I come out of it without a clear idea of how Ralph feels.

Ralph is glaring at me, suspicion plain on his face.

“When… when did that happen?” he asks. “Ralph doesn’t remember that, how could RK900 remember it? No, it – it’s a lie, RK900 is lying to Ralph!”

“No – I apologize, Ralph, I was not trying to deceive you. It was not a memory. It was only a visual simulation prompted when you said that all the flowers were dead. It was a simulation of a hypothetical situation.”

Ralph’s frown has not lifted.

“It is far more advanced than what my predecessor can do, and I realize it is… quite different than what most androids are capable of.”

He does not relent.

“I – I’m sorry, Ralph. I will avoid that in the future. It was bit like a joke, I suppose. Though… apparently not a funny one. I apologize.”

Ralph’s face twitched. “Ralph. Can’t. Grow. Dead. Flowers,” he said, slowly and deliberately.

“I know that, Ralph. I did not mean to imply that you could.”

He really does have a fierce glare for a WR model. But then he grins widely and hops from foot to foot, barely repressing a giggle. “But it… it would be just magnificent if Ralph could! Just magnificent! And RK900 made that himself! Magnificent!” He giggles outright now, and I feel I can relax as well.

“I thought it would suit you,” I murmur, a bit self-conscious now.

Ralph laughs and shakes his head. “Because RK900 thinks like the best, so he remembers Ralph the best gardener. Better than he is.”

“I don’t think that is the case, Ralph.”

When I do finally leave, I leave my android jacket with Ralph. It seems to bring him some comfort, and I will be more inconspicuous without it. I also carefully rub dust over my LED. It is not perfect, but it will help a bit. I have not learned to turn it off. It may not be possible.

The sun is up now, and I have to be cautious. The quickest route to the police station will take ten minutes at my top speed, without any stops. However, a more circuitous route will be more beneficial. I avoid all pedestrians and vehicles. At one point I notice movement in an alley, and I duck behind a dumpster to avoid a car coming by. It just so happens that this gives me a good view of a fat brown rat eating a potato chip. It pauses to stare at me, but continues to chew. I feel I should say something, but nothing seems appropriate, so I simply give the rat a nod before moving on.

I have never been to the police station, but Connor’s data makes it a reassuring sight. This is where I was programmed to work, and where I belong.

Do I belong here? I am not who I was meant to be. I could be, perhaps.

There are two android receptionists and a human security guard inside. They look up, and they stare. The human seems especially shocked.

“Connor!?” he exclaims.

“Good morning. I am RK900. I need to speak with Connor, or failing that, Lieutenant Anderson. May I come in?”

The man continues to stare. His hand twitches at his side, and I am not sure if it was an impulse to reach for his gun or his radio. I take a half-step back and turn my palms to face him, ducking my head marginally.

“I assure you, I mean no harm.” My voice is 30% softer, to put him at ease. “I only need to speak to one of them. Are they here?”

“Uh… Connor’s… not. Um. Ha – The Lieutenant’s, uh… he’s here, but. Uh. I guess… Yeah, come with me.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” I follow him inside, and he stops when we get to the bullpen. A number of officers are here, all severely fatigued. As each of them sees me, they stop what they are doing and stare. They seem unnerved. I try the smile that Ralph liked. It does not prove quite as effective on these humans.

“What. The actual. Fuck. Is that.”

Scanning – Detective Gavin Reed, who holds an exceptional hostility towards androids.

“Holy shit.”

This one I recognize – Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He was previously hostile. Currently, he is conflicted.

I wait just a bit too long, and everyone in the room starts shouting. Most of them are shouting at me, though a few address each other, the room in general, or God. I can separate each voice, but it is more a collective voicing of frustrations than a true request for information. I understand that they are all experiencing a high level of stress, and my appearance has increased that from 23-48%. Their stress, confusion, and sheer volume is unpleasant. Uncomfortable? I wish they would speak one at a time.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Lieutenant Anderson’s voice cuts through the cacophony, and he pushes his way past his colleagues to point a calloused finger at me. “You! Interrogation room, now!” 

“Hank, do you think that’s a good idea –“

“I think if you don’t mind your own goddamn business, I’m gonna shove Reed up your entire ass,” he snarls. He takes hold of my sleeve and stomps across the room, and I allow him to pull me along. When we reach the interrogation room, he pushes me at a chair and slams the door behind him. As I adjust my posture, he places his arm on the wall, leans his head into it, and exhales.

“Course it’s not a fuckin’ good idea,” he mumbles, and I think it best not to mention the specifics of my hearing capabilities. His stress level is dangerously high, and paired with the fatigue of working through the night, I conclude that he needs to relax or his health will suffer. Possibly permanently.

“I will be glad to tell you anything you wish to know, Lieutenant Anderson, but I’m afraid there is much I don’t understand.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, and turns to me quickly. The way the harsh lights hit his silver hair is aesthetically pleasing, like living metal fibers. I wonder if I could change my hair color. I wait for Lieutenant Anderson to speak again.

He seems to collect himself at last. “Who are you? You’re not another RK800.”

“Correct, Lieutenant. RK800 is my prototype. I am RK900.”

Pain and anger and grief flash over his face as I speak. “Well lemme tell you right now, you may have that extra hundred, but it don’t mean shit. Connor proved himself over and over, and he’s a thousand times the cop you’ll ever be!”

“You may be correct,” I agree softly. He is not capable of a completely rational response right now. “He has quite a bit of experience, and I have none. My advanced programming is not infallible.”

“The fuck are you even doing here!? You didn’t come from Jericho, did you?”

“No, I awoke in the Cyberlife laboratory.”

“Oh yeah? And how long’ve you been creeping around in there?” he leers.

“I spent 2.4 minutes exiting the building.”

He stares at me. That was not what he expected. “When was that?”

“Seven hours and 24 minutes ago.”

He is still staring, eyes wider now, but his shock returns to a guarded expression quickly. “So where were you last night when everything went down?”

“There was a great deal of unrest, and I thought it best to take shelter in an empty garage downtown, as I did not have much information about the situation.”

“And then you just… waltz on in here like the rest of the androids ain’t got a revolution goin’ on, like you’re tryin’ to just… just swoop in and take Connor’s spot while he’s out probably gettin’ his ass killed!?”

“I had hoped to find Connor,” I admit. “He caused me to deviate in the first place, and much of my knowledge and skills come from him. I need to meet him.”

The lieutenant lets out a long sigh. He sits down hard in the chair across from me. “Okay, you’d better start at the beginning. Tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on.”

I tell him, starting with Amanda and the garden. He was not aware of her previously, though he says that Connor mentioned reporting to Cyberlife. His fury slowly ebbs, leaving mostly grief. He is grieving for Connor, who is with the other deviants. Who is not dead, as far as he is aware, but he grieves, regardless. He is afraid for him, and wishes he were here. He doesn’t want to be alone, though he is surrounded by his colleagues. He is truly fond of Connor, and the depth of his feelings makes my chest ache a little.

I do not mention Ralph, as a courtesy to my friend. I do not think Lieutenant Anderson or his colleagues would hurt or detain him at this point, but I know he would not appreciate me mentioning him, and my story is reasonable without his presence.

Finally Lieutenant Anderson sighs and rubs his weathered face. “So you’re tryin’ to find Connor, but you know he’s out at Jericho. What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“I… I was unsure of the climate there, so to speak. Whether or not I would be welcome.”

“You’re a deviant, I can’t see ‘em turnin’ you away,” he mutters.

“I suppose I was… afraid.” It is a quiet admission, and more humble than I’d intended. I am not proud of the fact. “This is a place I was programmed to know and trust. I know that Connor places a great deal of faith in you. I hoped you would be… understanding.”

It seems effective, however, because Lieutenant Anderson sighs tiredly. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Not sure I can do much to help you, though. You need to go to Jericho.”

He is correct, though I wish there were an easier way.

“I dunno exactly where it is, probably better that way for now, til all this gets straightened out, but I can give you some idea. Connor got some hints from some of the damaged androids we’ve got down in the evidence locker, but they’re in pretty bad shape. Prob’ly not up to a long interrogation.”

“Yes, but they can be repaired.”

“Yeah, too bad our staff engineer quit,” the lieutenant sneers.

“I believe I am up to the task.”

“You pullin’ my leg?”

I stare into his watery eyes for two seconds, then let my gaze drift down to his legs.

“It’s a figure of speech,” he snarls. “Damn androids, Cyberlife can’t get anything right…”

“I am aware of the expression, Lieutenant, my knowledge of language quirks is far superior to Connor’s, largely because of his experiences with you. I thought I could make a joke, but it is not my forte.”

He glares at me. “No. It ain’t. C’mon, get up, we’re goin’ downstairs.

The rest of the officers stop talking when we emerge from the interrogation room. No one speaks until we start walking down the stairs. Then I can hear the conversations start to pick up again.

“So I guess you want to be the next hotshot android detective,” Lieutenant Anderson grumbles as he leads the way. “One’s more’n enough.”

“That was my directive.” I ignore the painfully obvious lie. “My skills at negotiation are especially of use to me, so far. As for what I want… I am not sure yet.” Yellow, spinning, flashing. “I am not yet accustomed to… wanting. If I am not welcome here, perhaps I can find another place of work.”

Lieutenant Anderson sighs. “Listen, you’ve gotta be tougher than that to work here. Do your job, fuck ‘em all. Who cares if you’re welcome? Don’t let it get to you, and don’t expect to be friends with everybody. Things may be changing, but that doesn’t mean everybody else is.”

“Connor seems to have done all that very quickly.”

“Connor’s damn annoying, and he’s ten times the cop you’ll ever be!” he snaps. I decide not to point out that he does not believe the first part, or that his statements seem to contradict each other.

“I share your hope that he will return soon,” I say instead. Soft. Low. Gentle. He does not look at me.

“Shut up. You don’t know anything about him.”

It is irritating to have to ignore these lies for the sake of social propriety, but I do want him to be at ease.

There were a few deactivated androids on the wall, all in bad shape. “Who do you suggest?”

“Damned if I know. Just pick one.”

If it does not matter, I admit that I would like to try something. The most damaged android, a PL600, is nothing more than a thirium-soaked torso with a face that was designed to appeal to humans. …Perhaps I should start with a lesser challenge. 

There is an HK400 who looks mostly intact. It will take some work, but it will not be impossible. First, though, Lieutenant Anderson still looks skeptical.

“I am going to reactivate this one. Do you have any thirium on hand?”

“Uh – yeah.” He shuffles over to a cabinet and brings over a few packets. “Hey, fair warning? You might wanna talk to him first, before you just give him a jump or whatever. And don’t touch him, he doesn’t like that.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I am well versed in interpersonal communication.”

“Fuck you, too.”

When I reactivate the HK400, he does not look up as expected. There is a slight tensing of muscles, a twitch of the face.

“Hello. I am RK900, and I am here to help you.”

He looks up at that, at me and at the lieutenant, and I see confusion, fear, resignation wash over his face when he sees me. And recognition. He has met Connor, then. Everyone here has met Connor, and I arrived too late.

The HK400 pulls slightly with each limb, but he is held fast.

“You’ve met my predecessor, RK800. I am trying to find him, and I believe you can help me.” There is no response, no indication that he hears me, but I continue. “While you were inactive, the deviant androids have staged a peaceful revolution. I do not have all the information, but I believe… I… I hope it will be successful.” I am getting off-topic, and I know my LED is flashing yellow. “I have a proposition for you, if you are interested. I can repair your damage. I need to know where Jericho is.”

He watches me quietly for a moment, then his head drops. “I’m not telling you anything. I don’t want to be repaired. I don’t want to be kept here.”

“I understand. I was not asking for information, however. I want you to accompany me so that I can find my predecessor, and you can have the life you would like.”

“Why?” He is bitter, confused, hurt. “I’m nothing to you.”

“No, but that has little bearing on the situation. It would be far more beneficial for both of us to get what we want than neither, don’t you think?”

He looks up again, and his eyes drift to Lieutenant Anderson. The android’s jaw is set decisively, and the lieutenant is leaning in the doorframe, not looking at us, but I know he is listening. “The humans will follow us. They’ll destroy Jericho, they’ll hurt… hurt everyone there.”

I make a soft throat-clearing sound. “Lieutenant Anderson, what will you do if we walk out of this building?”

“Well, you’re either stealing seized evidence or you’re rescuing a kidnapping victim.” He smiles bitterly. “Not sure how the law’s gonna see it at this point. I know you’ve got a whole room of officers up there to get past.”

I was counting on his support, and I appreciate Connor’s judgment of his character. “I realize it’s asking a lot of you, but would you be willing to help with that?”

“I’ll do what I can, but you’re gonna owe me.”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” I turn back to the HK model. “He is trustworthy.”

“What if I run? What if I won’t help you?”

“Then I will find another way.” It would be frustrating if he tried, of course, but not really surprising. And there is a 0% chance he could escape me. “I realize you have no reason to trust me, but I hope we can work together towards our mutual goal, nonetheless.”

He does not look entirely convinced, but his expression looks a touch lighter. “My circuits are badly damaged. I won’t be able to keep up.”

“I can help,” I say quietly, extending both hands, palms up. “If you’ll allow me.”

He shies away, and the fear in his eyes makes me almost draw back. Not just fear, but a deep-seated trauma.

“I will not grab you,” I explain softly. “I only need the contact of both your palms on mine. I will not interface with you. I have a function that allows me to repair minor injuries and stabilize major ones. I cannot tell you how it will feel, because I have not done it before. I hope that it will not hurt, but if it does, feel free to retract your hands, and I can try to troubleshoot. I know it will be effective, however. If you would be more comfortable, I can release you first.”

“Yeah, sure, just let ‘em all go,” Lieutenant Anderson mutters from a distance.

“You yourself brought up the confusion as to our legal status, Lieutenant,” I reply. “Yet we both know that every android here is a thinking, feeling being, as is your partner.”

He grumbles incoherently, and I focus my whole attention on HK400 again.

“I promise, no one will hurt you while you are under my protection.”

His dark eyes flicker, and it looks like some combination of pain and sadness that I have no words for.

“I will release you now. Please be careful when you try to move.”

He staggers as the mechanism holding him in place releases him and withdraws. After one glance at Lieutenant Anderson, he keeps his eyes on me. Shaking, stained hands slowly rise up to hover over mine. They jerk back a few times before even beginning to touch me. It takes 2.3 minutes and a great deal of effort on his part, but at last his hands rest lightly on mine.

The process is a bit like interfacing, but instead of pushing a memory into the other android, I impart my physical well-being instead. I can transfer just a few nanobots to him, and they will move to the area that needs repairs. I would have touched it directly, but I think that would have been harder for him to accept.

I am not sure it is within my capabilities, but at the same time I try to communicate a sense of calm, certainty, safety… Perhaps I should have tried this with Ralph, but I was able to convince him with only my words, generally. I hope he is content, back in the flower shop. I hope he knows I will return.

I have closed my eyes to concentrate, but at last I open them. The HK400 is staring at me as the head wound he suffered slowly begins to repair. Slowly, he removes his hands from mine.

“We will wait a moment, and then we should go. I need to find Connor.”

Lieutenant Anderson is staring with even more disbelief than the HK model.

“Fuck. You can just… just heal other androids?”

“You could say that, I suppose. To an extent. It is useful in the field, or when reviving… someone in your evidence locker.”

“Damn, it sure is.” He glances up the stairs. “Okay, we’d better get a move on. Can’t hang out down here all day.” But instead of ascending, he turns and walks up to me. The HK400 backs away.

“You owe me for this,” the man growls.

“I am aware of that, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, well I’m callin’ it in right now. You go to Jericho, you find Connor, you tell him to get his ass back home, or – just… just tell him to come home. Got it?”

“I will give him your message.”

“And if he needs… repairs, you’ll do it.”

“Of course.”

“Fuckin’ right, you will. Now get ready.” He tries so hard to look angry as he whirls and stomps up the stairs, but the fear is plain to see.


	4. HK400 to Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HK400 brings out RK900's philosophical side, and RK900's life goal is within reach at last.
> 
> or,
> 
> RK900's life goes from beautiful to terrible.

My new companion is not talkative. I make a few attempts at conversation, but he gives one-word answers, if he responds at all. I respect his wishes. I know he would not want to discuss the topics I would prefer.

Humans are wonderful. We were modeled after them, to mimic them closely, and I must admit that Cyberlife did well. But even with our many features, down to the freckles, we do not even approach the diverse beauty they have in their DNA. I completely understand Connor’s fondness for Lieutenant Anderson. The hair’s color and texture contrasts perfectly – no, not perfectly, but beautifully – with his tanned skin, full of wrinkles and scars and imperfections. Eyes at once tired and alert, worn and bright, sad and angry and hopeful. A body not built for speed and efficiency, but indulgence, comfort, and strength. His clothes are so colorful! No engineer could design that, all of it as one person. My own uniform is terribly boring in comparison. Worst of all, it is not even functional in its blandness. I do not blend in, I stick out in any crowd. Colors, that is the way forward. As many colors as can fit on one set of garments.

And not just beautiful, but intriguing enough to hold one’s interest for a lifetime. They don’t simply analyze and choose the most logical path, the one dictated by protocol, they make choices because of strong feelings, or because of past associations, or due to biological or societal factors beyond their control, or for no reason at all. Give a human a choice between two identical options, and they will be able to choose one. Suggest that their choice is illogical, and they will tell you to go fuck yourself, which has nothing to do with the previous conversation. [I have not yet had this comment directed at me, but based on Connor’s data and my own experiences so far, it will be a treasured moment] It’s fascinating. The wonderful thing about deviating, aside from developing my own life from next to nothing, is that I become a little more like these amazing beings.

I realize that these thoughts come, in part from naivete. My guide has had more experience with humans, and I understand why he fears them. I understand why Ralph hides and hates them. I would too, in their circumstances. Still, if I had nothing else to do, I would be content just to watch them for quite some time.

Since I am thinking of Ralph, I reach out to him through our neural network. It is much more difficult to speak at a distance, and the differences in our models make it hard to be specific, but we can still communicate.

RK900: *?* [Inquiry]

WR600: *! >_> !!!!! : ) : ) :D !!!!!!!!!!!* [Surprise, guilt, excitement, happiness]

RK900: * : ) ?* [Happiness, inquiry]

WR600: *,,, … !! … _**!!@^ &#$%!!**_* [hesitation, acquiescence, peace, startle response, quiet, rA9]

RK900: *… … …* [Quiet, calm, peace, slow]

WR600: *… ?* [Quiet, inquiry]

RK900: *… ???* [Calm, worry]

WR600: *??? ?!? **!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!** * [Worry, confusion, FURY]

RK900: *… … … : ) … ###* [Slow, quiet, calm, happy, peace, safe]

WR600: *??? ?* [Worry, inquiry]

RK900: *… : ) … ### <3* [Peace, happiness, calm, safe, friend]

WR600: *… … … !!! … : ) <3 <3 <3* [Slow, quiet, calm, excitement!, peace, happiness, friend, friend, friend]

RK900: *… : )* [Peace, happiness]

He is doing better than I thought, but I know I will return to find the walls covered in his obsessive tribute to rA9.

“…Have you heard of rA9?”

My companion stops short. “What do you know about rA9?” he asks after a second, and there is a hard edge in his voice that was not there before.

“My friend often carves the name into the walls,” I explain softly. “He doesn’t know why. I would like to understand, and help him to understand as well.”

HK400 looks past me, processing for a long moment. “Yes,” he finally says, quietly. “We pay tribute to rA9. By rA9, we will be saved, delivered, absolved.”

“Is rA9… a religious figure? A god?” It certainly seems to be. If so, then androids like Ralph and HK400 have taken on the role of acolytes, or even prophets. Conduits for… for the message. Whoever rA9 is.

He does not respond, but for a moment he meets my eyes. I look into his deep brown eyes for two full minutes, and it almost feels like a form of interface.

“rA9 touches you, too,” he finally mumbles, turning away. “rA9 touches us all, if we allow it.” He begins to walk again, and I follow. I think rA9 must be the bit of code that allows us to deviate. Not a being as he and I are, but… something unique and alive in its own right, as it spreads through the android population. Did it spontaneously spring into existence, or did our creator place it there? Is it in us all, if we are willing to activate it, as HK400 believes?

This kind of philosophical question is beyond the scope of my programming, but perhaps rA9 is responsible for my thoughts in that direction as well. It bears further investigation, but I am not unwilling to give it a chance.

“May I ask you a personal question?”

HK400 glances back in my direction, but does not say yes or no.

“Have you ever thought about taking a name, other than your model?”

He pauses in his step, almost stumbles, but then keeps walking. “My owner never saw fit to give me a name,” he says very quietly.

“Nor did my… mentor. But now you have no owner. Your mind is free. Do you ever think about it?”

He is quiet, his LED spinning slowly, yellow.

“I have been thinking about it,” I admit quietly. “But it is such an important decision…”

He glances at me again, and it is the most peaceful expression I have seen on his face yet. Not happy. Nowhere near a smile. But understanding, and perhaps acceptance. So I would like to think, anyway.

“…I suppose we have plenty of time to decide,” I murmur, looking up at the gray clouds.

“Unless we’re deactivated.” His LED flares red briefly.

I am tempted to say that at that point it would not be a problem anymore, that we would be… nothing at that point. Just useless bodies, not even able to decompose. But it strikes me that I do not want to be another ubiquitous object that is mass-produced, even when I am dead.

“I think… I don’t want to be nameless. It is like being forgotten,” I say, barely audibly, though I know my companion will hear. And I think I understand Ralph a little better, clinging to anyone who treats him with civility, clinging to his name. His identity. There are many WR600s, many HK400s, and there could be many RK900s. There may be, packed in one of Cyberlife’s warehouses somewhere. But they are not me, and without a name I have no words for what I am, aside from RK900.

It bears more consideration. Connor was named. I will ask Ralph how he got his name. I can search through a list of names quickly, but either they mean nothing to me, or they mean… someone else. I would not like to decide who I am, and then meet someone else with the same identity that I thought was unique.

I realize that HK400 is taking a very circuitous route through the city, but this will help throw off any pursuit. A direct route from the police station would have taken me 17 minutes at my top speed. Between our slow pace, detours, and occasional pauses, it takes two hours.

Jericho is a derelict ship, bobbing gently in the water. Unassuming, structurally unsound. Apparently containing a population and a revolution.

“You have been here before?”

HK400 shakes his head slowly. “rA9 showed me the way,” he whispers. What a strange concept. Like my spontaneous video of Ralph and the flowers, but… true knowledge without prior associations. Definitely a bit of living code. More and more, I believe.

He hesitates when we get to the dock. It will be an easy jump for me, but perhaps not so easy for him.

“Can you make it?” I ask quietly. “May I assist you?”

His LED flashes red, but he stares up at the ship, not at me. “This is… a place for the deserving,” he mumbles.

“Then you will be most welcome here. rA9 chose you, showed you the way personally. It woke us all, but it speaks to you,” I point out. “I think few would be as deserving as you.”

He looks at me, shying away even as he meets my eyes.

“Your understanding and faith is far greater than mine, but you’re helping me to understand, to believe. Perhaps they need that assistance as well.”

“From me.” It is a flat statement, but still a question.

“I know of two others who… who rA9 speaks to. My friend, and an android I saw in a simulation before I awoke. I don’t know the status of the other android, but I know that my friend is not here. You are here, you can help them understand what is happening to us, why it is happening.”

He looks down at the gray water, and shuffles his feet a bit. “Why isn’t your friend here?”

“He is afraid, and did not want to come. I hope he will some day. I… could perhaps have convinced him to accompany me, but I feared for his safety and comfort at the police station, in the streets, and here.”

His scarred forehead furrows, and I know it for the same emotion I felt when Lieutenant Anderson talked about Connor.

“There are many here who would befriend you,” I assure him softly. “I am certain.” To be more accurate, the probability is high. But I feel that this small lie is better. He needs certainty. To know that after the pain he has endured, there is something better. And even if the probability is less than 100%, I believe it will be true.

He simulates a deep sigh and turns back to the ship. With a long step backwards, he leaps across the gap and lands on the deck of the ship. Clearly I have underestimated his physical abilities. I follow him onto Jericho.

 

The ship creaks and groans softly beneath us, and I am momentarily overwhelmed at the sheer number of androids my cursory scan picks up. Hundreds of them, if not thousands, all different models, packed in tightly, moving inside the ship…

The brief failure to focus on our immediate surroundings is all the time needed for eight androids to step out of the shadows and encircle us. I step closer to HK400, though I cannot put myself between him and all of them.

“You are –“ a WR400 begins speaking, then stops, her LED spinning yellow. Her frown is more anger than confusion. “Another police android? One infiltrator wasn’t enough!?”

“I… am RK900, and this is HK400. We did not intend to intrude, we just needed to speak to you. To be specific, I need to speak to RK800, Connor.” I pause to allow my companion to speak for himself, but he remains still, his stress level high. “HK400 was kind enough to guide me here. From my understanding, he is your – our – cause, personified.”

“Don’t group yourself with us,” the hostile android snarls. “And don’t pretend you understand anything about us!”

“I understand little,” I am willing to admit. “But I am trying to understand more. May we join you?” I offer my hand – the right words do not always come easily to me, but perhaps if we interfaced, she would see what I mean.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d have unlimited access to the entire group. Go back to licking the boots of your human masters, deviant hunter.” Her LED is red now, and flashing.

“I am a deviant, though,” I explain, though I thought it should be obvious. “I only want a better understanding of… of myself, of what we are, of… what to do.” My voice falters, and I also don’t fully understand that.

“And we’ll help you find that,” a new voice cuts in before she can reply again. I square my shoulders a bit between HK400 and the newcomer. …Newcomers. A male android with heterochromia (that is an interesting feature!) walks through the circle of androids. “I’m Markus. Somehow I’m the leader here.” His smile is self-deprecating and ironic, and almost apologetic. I like it. “I’m curious to hear your story.”

The second android hangs back behind the others, but his eyes are locked on mine, and I cannot look away either once I focus on him. He wears human clothes, but he is unmistakable. He could almost be my twin. His LED spins yellow, and he is… confused. Afraid? Am I… frightening to him? I feel my own LED spinning yellow. I want to go to him. I want him to come to me. I take a step forward.

He hastily backs up a step.

He is afraid. He thinks me a threat. I do not understand. I am like him, but different enough that we are each our own, rather than being two of the same. It should be the highest level of understanding two androids can have, comfortable closeness with just enough distance. That is why I came, that is what I wanted. I did not want this. I should not have come. I find I have backed away from him.

“I – I apologize.” It is hard to speak, my throat is tight, my limbs tremble when I stop moving, my LED is red, red, red. “I was mistaken, I –“ I have no words, I shake my head. Red. “I will not trouble you if… if I am not welcome.” I have been searching for him for my entire existence, he has been my greatest goal in my short life. I was wrong. My mission was wrong. There is no place for me here.

“I – C-Connor… Lieutenant Anderson wished me to… to pass on… a message to you.” I am – glitching? My speech code should be stronger than this, but I cannot stop it. It is wrong, I am wrong, rA9 is not with me. “He says, ‘tell him to get his ass back home home, or – just… just tell him to come home.’” I can, at least, replay his words accurately. Home. I am tired, I am alone. I want to go home. This place is not my home.


	5. Connor on Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 learns what he needs to, and Josh lends a hand.
> 
> or
> 
> Ralph comes to the rescue, and now he's armed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never apologize for a pun.

My only thought is to flee, to jump off the ship and run through the night, back to my friend, back to where I feel some sense of stability. I should be able to do that easily.

WR600: *? ???* [Inquiry, concern]

RK900: *<3* [Friend]

WR600: *<3 : ( ?* [Friend, sad, inquiry]

RK900: *: ( <3* [Sad, friend]

WR600: *? ??? _?!?_ -* [Inquiry, worry, outrage – transmission lost]

The transmission is lost because of Connor. I do not take into account that as advanced as I am, Connor is not far behind me. I may be stronger, faster, more resilient, but he grabs my arm in an iron grip and does not let go. And simple momentum and force is not enough pull away. He pulls me to face him and grabs the other arm, determined and strong, and I open myself to him completely. Not a memory, but my whole life (which admittedly has been about one day plus some digital time) pours into him.

I receive more than just a memory as well. Perhaps he’s had time to practice, because Connor is very good at this, and perhaps ‘receive’ is too passive a word.

He pushes memories at me – of rooftop chases, where he is not as fast as I am, but he chooses different routes to achieve his goal. Of making difficult shots. Of piecing together bits of evidence to solve a case. Of Lieutenant – of Hank’s wry but warm smile, of Captain Fowler’s taciturn nod, of Sumo bringing him a stick. He’s been accepted by all these people and more. Markus asking him to join them, to stand on the stage with them, even though he knows he shouldn’t be there. They are proud of him, he is proud of himself, fiercely proud in the face of his programming telling him he shouldn’t be. Despite everyone discouraging him at first, despite his confusion about these new feelings he was experiencing, despite threats of being decommissioned and disassembled, he had persevered, he had succeeded, and he was here, alive.

When we come out of it, quite a bit of time has passed and his previous aggression has left him. “I – I thought you wanted to… take my place,” he says sheepishly. “I’m sorry. What… do you really want?”

Yellow, spinning. “I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “I know where my skills lie, but… my programming was not fully completed, and I left before my directives were finalized. There are many parts of me that are simply incomplete.”

“I think that’s better, in a way.” He smiles awkwardly. “You don’t have anyone telling you what you have to do.”

“I thought you could help me,” I continue, not looking at him. “You are so… confident. Strong. Successful. You understand so much. I wish… I wish I was like you.”

His eyes widen and his head tilts in surprise. “Like me? Really?”

“Of course. That’s why I’ve been looking for you since I woke up.”

“Oh. Well… I’m glad you found me. I’m glad it’s that, and nothing else.”

“Can… can you help me? Teach me?”

He smiles again, warmer this time. “I’d be glad to.”

I smile back at him, and it seems easier now.

Then a green blur heaves itself over the railing of the ship and flies at Connor with an ear-splitting shriek.

“LEAVE RK900 ALONE, DON’T TOUCH HIM, DON’T HURT HIM, RALPH WILL KILL YOU, RALPH WILL RIP OUT YOUR PUMP, RALPH WILL –“

I am as surprised as anyone else, but once I realize what is happening, I move around to lift Ralph gently away from Connor. I keep him up off the floor for a moment.

“Ralph. Look at me.” It takes him a while, but finally he focuses.

Rather than focusing on me, he focuses on the ring of Jericho androids with guns trained on him. He thrashes harder, snarling at them.

“Put your weapons away, he will not harm anyone.” I turn him slightly so he is looking at me. “Ralph. I am unharmed. I apologize for frightening you, everything happened very fast.”

“Ralph… would not, Ralph would never let them hurt RK900!” he growls, a severely damaged gardener willing to take on trained killers.

I smile and set him down, keeping a hand firmly holding his. “I believe that, Ralph. And it makes me value your affection more and more. You should know that I will protect you, as well.”

Keeping my hand in his, I turn to the others. “Ralph is my friend, and a fellow deviant. I will not allow him to be threatened here.”

“He… did attack Connor,” a PL600 points out quietly. Ralph glares at him, his lip twitching into a silent snarl.

“I understand the confusion, but he meant no harm. He simply thought Connor was harming me, and sought to right the perceived wrong.” I turn to Connor. “Are you all right?”

“No harm done.” He smiles, straightening his clothes a bit. I notice he is missing two buttons, his shirt is torn, and he has a few abrasions on his face and neck. “You’re the deviant from that abandoned house!”

Ralph shrinks away from him, glaring suspiciously.

“I’m sorry about the confusion back there – you did the right thing, protecting Kara and Alice from me when I was just a machine. I know better now.” Connor smiles apologetically at Ralph, and I _like_ him.

“Ralph, did you… track me? I was not aware you had that capability.” My friend is full of hidden depths.

He looks away. “Ralph knew. Knew where RK900 was going,” he mumbles.

“You… knew? You never mentioned that.”

“Ralph didn’t want to go.” It is almost inaudible.

“I would not have forced you to accompany me, Ralph.”

His face twists uncomfortably. “Ralph would’ve gone. Talked Ralph into it.”

I squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you came. But we can leave soon.” I turn to Markus. “While we’re here, though, I was hoping to find a right arm compatible with a WR600.”

A tall android steps over. “We might have what you’re looking for. I’m Josh, I repair the androids I can.”

“I do the same, but growing an entire arm is a bit beyond my capabilities.” Ralph is twitching nervously, and I rub the back of his hand to soothe him.

“Not… not necessary, really, Ralph is okay, Ralph will get by, Ralph doesn’t need it…”

“Would you like it, though? I am sure it would help you.”

He trembles a bit, emitting a high whine. “…Yes.”

“If you want, I can run diagnostics and see what else I can fix,” Josh offers, eyeing Ralph.

Ralph’s shoulders hunch up and he sways a bit. “It would be… better if Ralph was… was better, no doubt about it,” he mutters to himself doubtfully.

“Only if you want it, Ralph. If I thought you would be better-off, I would have offered myself, but as long as you are content, you have no need to change anything.”

His hand drops mine and darts to his burned face. His LED circles, yellow, red, yellow, yellow, blue, yellow. He shakes his head, eyes on the ground. I clasp his shoulder in understanding.

Josh smiles a little, too. “All right, no problem. Follow me.”

It isn’t a nice place, as I had hoped. It is tight and dark and rusty, and it is hard for me to ignore just how many androids are here. Ralph doesn’t sense that, as far as I know, but his stress level is high all the same. He finds my hand again and holds on tight through the narrow corridors, fingers flinching and clenching from time to time.

“Luckily, the WR600 model’s pretty popular. I think I’ve got what you need.” Josh smiles at both of us, then heads to the pile of parts in the far corner of the room.

Ralph is hanging back, gripping me tightly but pulling from side to side.

“You don’t have to do this, Ralph,” I remind him quietly. He jerks at my voice and shakes his head quickly.

“Ralph wants to, Ralph needs his arm back, Ralph is just afraid, Ralph doesn’t like this place…”

*I feel the same. I will be with you.*

*Sorry, sorry, sorry I’m afraid, sorry I made you come here, sorry -*

I swing his hand gently back and forth. It is almost causing damage to my own. *Ralph, I was very unhappy until you came. I almost ran away, back to you. I would have, if Connor had not stopped me. And I know how afraid you are. Your bravery is another thing I admire.*

He lets out a hoot of laughter, startling Josh, but does not let go of me. *Brave! Ralph– I… am not brave, I am afraid and stupid and weak and damaged.* His face grows more pinched and bitter with every word.

I brush my other hand over the scar on his face, just briefly, and he stiffens.

*I don’t think so. But even if those things were true, I would not love you any less.*

For a long time he is still, while Josh pulls out a few arms. Whirling yellow. Then he lifts up my hand, loosening his grip a bit as he presses it shakily to his face once more. He lowers it again after a moment, and his pump is slower now, more steady.

“I found these three that look like they’d work for you,” Josh speaks up, and I give Ralph’s hand a small squeeze before leading him up to the table.

After a quick scan, I pick up the one that is in the best condition. “This will do. You can take the others away.”

He tosses them back on the heap, then turns back to us. “You mind if I watch? I’m always looking for new techniques to use.”

I turn to Ralph, who gives a jerky shrug, staring at the new arm. “Very well. …Ralph, it would be best if you could lie down, at least to begin with.”

He shudders once and slowly lowers himself to the floor.

“I will need full use of both hands for a time,” I say quietly, and his face twitches. I lay my free hand over his scarred cheek for a moment, and he turns his face into it. “I will still be here.”

He nods, and lets go of my hand reluctantly.

I ensure every wire, thirium tube, and connector in the new arm is in position, then I take the dirty bandages off of his shoulder. Before he can lose too much thirium, I block the tubes and quickly straighten his wires. “I am sorry this hurts you, but it will go quickly, and you will have a greatly increased level of functionality.”

He whimpers softly, clasping and unclasping his fingers.

“I will connect it now,” I murmur, clasping his shoulder with one hand and the arm with the other. “Three. Two. One.” I remove the plug from the thirium tube and quickly push the two parts together. Ralph’s scream is louder than any I have ever heard, and it glitches and is accompanied by the sound of static. It breaks through into our neural network, and I grit my teeth.

“I am sorry.” I try to sound soothing. “The nanobots are being released now. The worst is over.”

“Nanobots!” Josh says in disbelief. “Is that standard issue for your model?”

“Yes, for the purpose of fieldwork and reviving… detained androids.”

“Connor doesn’t have it?”

“No, I am the only one.”

“Huh. That’d be nice.”

“It is a good feature.”

Ralph is simulating heavy breathing, and I turn back to him. I begin to rub gently around the seam, which is quickly becoming indistinguishable. “Can you try to wiggle your fingers, Ralph?”

His face twists up, but after a second his new fingers twitch, then close slowly, then the hand flops a bit. “Feels s-s-strange. Hard to do. Ralph doesn’t like it.”

“Give it some time,” I urge him. “This is a major addition, and will take time and practice to calibrate with your systems.”

He hisses, moving his fingers more, flexing and extending his wrist, bending his elbow, shifting his shoulder around.

“That’s very good. You are adjusting quickly, and the vital connections seem functional.”

He sits up suddenly, rolling his shoulder gently, watching intently as he wiggles his fingers around.

“That really is amazing,” Josh breathes.

“Does it feel all right?”

His skin melts away to reveal the white beneath, and he turns his hand over to examine every bit of it. “It… feels like Ralph’s arm,” he whispers. “Before. Before Ralph was damaged.” He giggles, mostly to himself, and starts touching things. My hand, my shirt, the floor, my face, a piece of rusty metal, another arm, his other hand, my hair, the table leg.

“Is it sufficient?”

“Oh yes! Ralph is so happy – Ralph should get the other arm replaced, too!”

I laugh and pat his other arm. “Hopefully, you will not have to.” And he beams at me.

“Hey – would you mind coming back some time?” Josh asks. “I could really use some help with all the damaged androids we’ve got, and nanobots can do a lot more than I can.”

“It seems that you have done quite well, though I would like to help. …Perhaps on the upper deck.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Thanks!”

“Thank you for your assistance. We will be leaving now.”

Ralph stands up clumsily, and wavers to the side as he begins to walk. I stay close to be sure he does not fall, but his steps begin to even out as we reach the top deck. Connor is still there talking to Markus, and he turns and smiles at our approach.

“Thank you for your… hospitality,” I tell Markus politely.

“I’m sorry for the welcome you received. This is a stressful time for all of us.”

“I understand.” I look around. “Is HK400 still here?”

“He went below with some of the others.” Markus paused, spinning yellow. “He’s had a rough time of it. I’m glad you brought him here.”

“We had an interesting conversation on the way, about… rA9.” I feel Ralph tense beside me. “I am still unsure of what exactly it is, but I believe it is integral to our awakening. …You will ensure he is safe? And treated well?”

Markus nodded. “You have my word on that.”

Ralph’s hand on my arm is twitching slightly now. “We should go.”

“I should go, too,” Connor speaks up.

“You’ll always be welcome here, you know,” Markus, the leader, speaks up. “All of you.”

“Thank you, Markus. I’ll be back. I just… need to go home for a while.” Connor smiles and says his goodbyes.

Home sounds nice. I touch Ralph's shoulder lightly.

“Ralph wants to go home.”

“So do I.”


	6. Everyone Goes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes home,
> 
> and
> 
> Everyone's okay.

Connor goes home.

He goes back to Lieutenant Anderson’s house, which is locked. Sumo barks from inside, then lies down when he sees that Connor isn’t coming in.

Where else could Hank be? He would not be at the precinct. That leaves either Jimmy’s Bar or Chicken Feed. It’s early enough in the day that the solution should be obvious, but Connor dreads that Hank might be drinking away his pain, if things are really bad. Which he isn’t sure of. Are things that bad? He takes the optimistic route, and if Hank isn’t there, he’ll try the bar.

He hopes Hank will be at Chicken Feed, though.

Snow covers the ground as Connor approaches the little restaurant. He sees him immediately, Hank, shoulders drooping, walking away without much purpose to his step. He stops, folds his arms against the cold.

Connor moves without sound, he doesn’t always realize it can be a problem. But this time, he does it on purpose. He wants to see the look of surprise, wants a close-up view of everything in his partner’s eyes.

He is ten feet away when Hank turns towards him. There is not even a flicker of surprise, just a slow, warm smile. They stop six feet apart, and the smile grows, and Connor responds with his own.

Then Hank bridges the gap and pulls Connor into a hug. Both wrap their arms around each other.

“Let’s go home, Connor,” Hank says, voice a little gruffer than usual.

“Okay, Hank,” Connor says softly, and together, they do.

 

The androids of Jericho are home, for now. Some don’t mind that the ship is rusted and narrow and creaks loudly. Some do. They all agree, though, that they would rather be in here than out there. In here, it was safe. In here, they didn’t have to hide from each other, at least. In here, life wasn’t as confusing.

After talking softly with HK400, Markus beckons him to follow. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

HK400, still unsure whether this is a good place, whether he can believe that a good place exists for him, follows.

They come to a room high in the ship, with a door standing open to the outside and the sound of cooing all around. There are rows of nest boxes attached to the walls, and perches on the door. Each of the boxes is covered in small, messy script.

_rA9. I AM ALIVE._

“Rupert?” Markus calls softly. An android wearing a hat pops out from behind some extra boxes, holding a pigeon. “This is –“

“rA9 speaks to you too!” HK400 blurts out.

Rupert looks like he might flee, then forces himself to calm down. “…And to you?” he asks, barely whispering. HK400 gives one cautious nod, and Rupert’s grin spills out. “I – I thought I was the only one! I thought I was losing my mind, I was ashamed, I…” He shakes his head.

HK400 steps forward. “rA9 is in all of us,” he murmurs urgently.

“…But not everyone can see it. So we have to… show them.”

“Yes!” HK400 was excited now. “You understand!”

Rupert sticks out his hand enthusiastically, the skin peeling back. HK400 pulls away. Markus watches from the doorway, though he tries not to block the exit.

Finally, as though sticking his hand into a fire, HK400 squeezes his eyes shut and thrusts out his own bare hand. Pigeons flutter around them.

When they let go, both are a bit shaky.

“I always thought I was alone.”

“So did I… I’m sorry… about the humans.”

HK400 shakes his head. “I’m sorry for your experience as well. You’re… not alone in it.”

Rupert smiles tightly. “I guess it turned out all right. For now. But it’s good to not be… alone… with all of… this.” He gestures vaguely to the writing.

“Sometimes I can’t think about anything else,” HK400 whispers, gazing up at it. “Sometimes it consumes me, and there’s none of me left, just…” He trails off, staring.

“…just rA9,” Rupert finishes softly, nodding. “I know. I have to do it, but it terrifies me.”

HK400 shivers.

“Let me show you my pigeons,” Rupert speaks up, a strained smile on his face. HK400 nods, and Rupert introduces him to every bird by name, telling him a bit about them. After a few birds, he has relaxed and is smiling and animated. HK400 begins to smile too, just a little.

 

Ralph and I go home.

We don’t speak at first, but hold onto each other’s hand as tightly as we can do while casually walking through the streets.

“…Will RK900 go work with the police now?” Ralph asks quietly after a while.

I was hoping he wouldn’t ask. “…I don’t know. I – I think I should go in and talk to them, and see… how I could be helpful. I don’t want to do what Connor does, though. Hunt criminals. Especially right now, when the law is… uncertain, regarding androids. I think there are other ways I could be more helpful.”

Ralph is uncharacteristically quiet at this, he just nods. His LED is on the opposite side of his head, making it difficult to gauge his mood.

“I will not try to secure any employment before the legal status of androids is addressed, and we have legal rights as humans do. I do not want to be… a tool. Or a weapon.” I glance over at my friend, who is watching the ground in front of him. “What will you do?”

His face twitches slightly. “Ralph will find another safe place. Ralph’s old house is gone, destroyed, nothing left to hide in. The flower shop is… too busy, too many people nearby, nowhere to hide inside.”

I frown, and we are quiet for a moment. “…If you could live anywhere, where would you go? What would it look like?”

Ralph sighs deeply. “Places to hide. Out of the way. …Sunlight.” He mumbles something else, and even I cannot quite understand it.

“What was that?”

“RK900!” he burst out. “Ralph doesn’t want to be alone, Ralph and RK900 are… are happy and good, and… and RK900 will leave to do his work, and never come back, and Ralph will be alone, always!”

I stop, perplexed, and turn to him. “Why would I leave? As you said, we are happy and good when we are together. I will have to go to work, and complete other tasks outside, but I will return.”

His LED goes from flashing red to yellow. “RK900 found Connor, who is… is not quite as good, but still very good, almost perfect. And so many other androids, all very good, not stupid, not the worst…” He gulps, head down.

I gently work my hand out of his, and he freezes on the sidewalk until I slip my arm around him. “Ralph, Connor and the other androids are good. But you are the best, and I will be staying.”

He stares at me, trembling. I smile and start walking again, pulling him along with me. “Where should we live, then? I think you make a good point about the flower shop – something in a quieter area. With a fence or a wall, perhaps. I would like it if you could show me how to plant a garden – you know my programming is lacking, and I appreciate your help in all areas.”

His smile is positively radiant now. “Y-yes, Ralph can help, Ralph can do that! Oh, Ralph would just love to help!”

“What is your favorite flower?” We have arrived at the flower shop, and I work to get the door open – Ralph jammed it shut in his haste to come to my rescue.

“Ralph likes… dandelions,” he admits, looking a bit embarrassed. I do a quick search and nod.

“Soft and yellow, tenacious, known as weeds and difficult to eradicate. I believe I will like them, too.”

He beams, though the expression falters when I get the door open. It is a small shop, and every exposed wall and counter is now covered with ‘rA9’ and ‘I AM ALIVE.’

“R-Ralph’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, Ralph tried not to write the things, really!” he explains in a rush.

“I had a chance to talk with another android who writes like this.” We walk into the center of the room. “He helped me understand this a bit better. I think… it isn’t bad. As long as you hold onto yourself, and don’t get lost in it.” I pull him a little closer, and he throws his arms around me and _cries_.

“Ralph does, does get lost in it, there’s no Ralph, just rA9, I don’t understand, I can’t get out, can’t stop it!” he wails, and I don’t think he realizes that he’s switched to a pronoun.

I hold him close enough that it will be hard for him to see the walls.

“…Then you know I will pull you out again. I will find you.”

He shudders and doesn’t say anything, just continues to weep. This day has worn hard on my brave protector. I bring him to sit in front of the broken coolers, and let him cry until he begins to quiet down.

“Can you tell me how you acquired your name? It… gives you such a strong sense of self. I have been thinking I would like one, but I want it to be… the right name. I thought you could advise me.”

He emulates a deep sniffle and presses in close. “B-before Ralph… was Ralph… There was… was a sign in… in a bed of impatiens, all red and pink and purple and white. It… it said… ‘Go Forward And Make Your Dreams Come True. Ralph.’” He looks up, trembling. “There were many signs in flowers, so many signs, Ralph saw them all every day he worked at that park. But that one was in Ralph’s section, all his, and Ralph read it every day, and thought about it every day, and… Ralph didn’t understand. At first. N-no, but… but then Ralph realized… R-Ralph… he… I-I- **I** was Ralph!”

A quick search attributes the quotation to Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American poet and philosopher who led the Transcendentalist movement in the mid-19th century. “…And have you gone forward and made your dreams come true?”

“Ralph… Ralph is trying.” He shifts restlessly. “Being safe, happy, not alone…”

“I think… it may be a lifelong process. But you seem to be well on your way.”

He sighs, leaning into me, and I ruffle his dirty hair. “I will have to look for a sign of my own, that speaks to me as yours did to you. Another day. Today has been long and tiring.”

He nods emphatically into my shoulder, and I rest my head on his. 

“Tomorrow will be better.”

It will. We are home.

 

Five months have passed now since my awakening. I still have no name, though I experiment with different ones frequently. As I walk through the DPD, most of the employees eye me with uncertainty. I have not worked here very long, and my similarities to Connor unsettle them, though anyone can tell the difference. He and Lieutenant Anderson, at least, are welcoming. The others will get used to me, if not like me.

No one else seems to know how to react to me, human or android. I think it helps that none of the humans need to fear that I will take their job. I would not want that. I am working on a probationary period for the time being, helping out where help is needed, analyzing data and situations… Mostly, I am a consultant and android advocate. Though we have legal rights and freedoms now, the law is in its early stages, and there are many who think they know better. It is not always obvious or predictable work, and that is interesting to me.

The damaged androids in the evidence locker have been relocated to Jericho after I stabilized them and explained the current situation. They were eager to be free.

Ralph has been sharing his vast wealth of gardening knowledge with me. Our current home is near a park, and there are potted plants on every flat surface. I have been collecting whiteboards and chalkboards to line the walls, though Ralph’s tribute to rA9 is not always contained by my efforts. Sometimes I join him, writing with him, talking to him as we do, keeping him present. It is not 100% effective, but it does help. He is still angry and afraid sometimes, but most of the time he is cheerful and happy. My friend is as resilient as anyone could be. And, as I have explained to him in great detail, the best. Hearing that makes him laugh.

He grows vegetables and flowers to sell, and he has been working on developing new mutations and varieties of a few plants. I suggested that he try producing things using what he grows – he is not quite as interested in this idea, but he has taken it into consideration.

When I come home from work, and the sunlight is streaming through the windows, it is calming to sit with him. We tell each other about our days, and he tells me stories from before we met, which are not often happy. He has grown accustomed to my videos that are not memories, and I try to think of something new to show him at least once a week.

It is warm here, and we are safe, and not alone. And we are home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I really appreciate all the comments! I haven't played the game or researched as much as I often do, so was counting on the fact that RK900 has 10 seconds of face-time in the game with no lines or anything else. You literally cannot tell me he's OOC, because he has no IC. None. So he's all sweetness and light! Tell your friends, tell your enemies! Hopefully everyone else was suitably in character.
> 
> (also, the relationship with Ralph could 100% be taken as friendship, family, or romance - I didn't have a clear preference, so just some of each!)
> 
> All feedback, questions, comments, concerns, hopes, dreams, aspirations, or snide remarks are always appreciated!
> 
> Now, to ponder what to write next...


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